Rich Blood (Jason Rich #1)(4)

He reached for the pint glass on the ground and knocked it over. Too tired and drunk to get up for a refill, he gaped up at the sky. “Fuck it,” he said out loud.

“Fuck it all.”





4


The plan had been to kill the doctor inside the house.

Waylon would walk around the side of the home and use the key he’d been given to enter the laundry room before sneaking downstairs to the man cave, where he would find the surgeon either shooting pool, fiddling around on his computer, or watching TV. If possible, he’d come up behind him and kill him without being noticed. If Dr. Waters did see him, Waylon would feign having to come by and pick up a tool he’d left in the workshop attached to the man cave. He’d go inside, come out with a hammer or a screwdriver, and then try to catch the doctor unaware and shoot him in the head.

Was it a good plan? Waylon was by no means a criminal mastermind, and he knew that Braxton Waters lifted weights and was in good shape. There could be a scuffle, which might leave a trail that he’d been in the house.

Waylon had begun to doubt the wisdom of his scheme as he approached the mansion. Then he heard music coming from the dock.

He grinned as he ambled down the grassy slope toward the water. He couldn’t believe his luck. Braxton Waters was lying down on a lawn chair. Waylon edged to within ten feet of the doctor and saw that Waters’s eyes were closed. Then he noticed the quarter-full tequila bottle and the knocked-over pint glass.

A ripple of relief ran through his body. There’d be no confrontation. Waylon studied the lake. He could see the boathouse of the neighboring home, but the lights were off, and it was at least four hundred yards away. In the other direction, he saw fireworks still being shot over the lake. Perfect, he thought.

He tiptoed forward and took out his 9 mm pistol and held it in his gloved hands.

Waylon Pike glanced to his left and right and then back up at the house. He saw nothing suspicious, no movement. He peered out at the lake. No boats were in the area.

When the next round of fireworks began going off in the distance, he pointed the gun at the head of Dr. Braxton Waters.

And then he pulled the trigger.



After cleaning up the mess, Waylon walked around the side of the house.

His ride was waiting.

He slid into the passenger seat and closed the door.

“Well?” his benefactor asked.

“Done,” Waylon said.





5


Jana Waters woke up on the floor with her daughter screaming.

“Mom! Wake up, Mom!”

Jana tried to look at her daughter, but her eyes had crusted over with gunk. “Wh-wha-what is it, baby?” She managed to pull herself up to a sitting position, her daughter standing over her. Then she took a deep breath and exhaled as the sun from the floor-length window warmed her face.

“Mom, why are you on the floor? And where’s Dad?”

Jana turned her head away from the heat coming off the glass. “Nola, can you get me a wet rag?”

She heard a frustrated sigh followed by footsteps marching across the hardwood floor. Seconds later a damp piece of cloth was pressed into her hand. Jana wiped her eyes and placed the cloth on her forehead. She opened her eyes, and, though the corners of her lids still felt gritty, she could see her daughter standing above her with arms crossed.

“What’s going on, Mom?”

“When’d you get home?”

“Five minutes ago.”

“What time is—?”

“Noon. I told you and Dad that I’d be home from Harley’s at twelve. You still haven’t answered my question. What’s going on? And why’re you passed out on the floor? God, Mom. And where’s Dad? His car’s in the garage.”

Jana winced. She put her hand on the cold floor and pressed herself up to her knees. As she moved, a wave of nausea rolled through her body. “Honey, I’ll answer your questions as best I can, but can you get me some water?”

This time Nola didn’t move.

Jana climbed to her feet and put her hand on the couch to steady herself. She blinked out the window toward the lake as her head began to pound. She squinted at her daughter, who’d wrinkled her face up in disgust.

“Fine, I’ll get it myself,” Jana said. She shuffled toward the kitchen, noticing that her feet were bare and that she was still in the sundress she’d worn last night. She grabbed a glass from the cabinet, put it under the automatic ice maker, and cringed at the sound of the ice clunking against the sides of the cup. Then she filled it with water from the sink and took a long, slow sip, spilling some of the liquid down the front of her dress. Behind her, she heard her daughter calling for her father as she walked downstairs toward the man cave. Jana drank two more glasses of water and then splashed some on her face. Better, she thought, as she saw Nola running back up the steps.

“Mom, he’s not here.” Her daughter’s voice now sounded worried instead of mad.

“He’s probably fishing with Burns,” Jana muttered. “Or maybe they took the Jet Skis out.”

“I’m going to go check the boathouse.”

“No,” Jana said, feeling a tickle of fear run down her arms as she began to get her bearings. No, she thought, going over the events of the previous night in her jumbled mind.